


Down To You

by slash4femme



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sex, a small amount of talk of past trauma, and forced telephathy, fluffy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>back on Earth again to relax and recover</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down To You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in October 2009 
> 
> beta read by [](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/profile)[ **cardiac_logic**](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/)who is both wonderful and awesome. Written as a follow up fic for [this prompt here](http://community.livejournal.com/st_tos_kink/485.html?thread=198629#t198629) over at st_tos_kink. 

“Next time Jim asks us to go camping, we say no. I don’t care how much he begs and pleads, it’s still no, not for any reason, and if you can’t say no then I am more than willing to do it for the both of us.”

McCoy sweeps into their house like a small storm, with Spock following close behind. McCoy had been working up a good head of steam all the way here, and at this point he’s practically shouting. This isn’t it, though; Spock knows this is only the prelude. McCoy stops in the kitchen, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and Spock steps around him, taking their bags through to the bedroom. When he comes back McCoy is still there, with that look on his face that Spock remembers from many instances on the bridge when Kirk had been planning to do something McCoy thought was both stupid and dangerous yet was powerless to stop him from doing. Spock stops just a little ways from McCoy, watching him, and slowly McCoy meets his eyes. It isn’t Jim, they both know that, it’s Sybok - what he did to McCoy taking over his mind again. McCoy sighs and presses his hands to his face; just when he thinks it wouldn’t happen, it couldn’t possibly happen, there is always some kind of telepathic alien ready and willing to barge into his head, manipulate and violate him on this very basic level all over again. Humans aren’t naturally telepathic and McCoy’s never met the human who actually likes telepathy, much less having it forced on them, time after time after time. McCoy takes a long shuddering breath and then goes to Spock, and Spock’s arms close around him.

“I can’t keep doing this,” McCoy says against Spock’s chest, and Spock’s hand comes up to cup the back of the other man’s head.

“Leonard . . .”

“I just can’t.”

McCoy lets go of Spock and steps way from him, then heads towards his office at the end of the house, and after a moment Spock hears the door lock. He sighs softly and finishes bringing in their things and unpacks them. He’s worried; he’s been worried about the whole crew since the end of the mission, but McCoy most particularly. This is, however, not the time.McCoy does not come out and join Spock for dinner, and that’s worrying, especially since they are newly back from a mission and McCoy without fail loses weight on missions. However, Spock sees no way of forcing him to eat, so he sets food aside for McCoy to eat later, and goes to read.

It is several hours later and Spock has worked through a stack of journal articles when he looks up to see McCoy leaning against the doorframe that joins their bedroom to Spock’s study. McCoy has changed into jeans and a soft looking long sleeve button up shirt. McCoy pads over to where Spock sits and Spock notes that the other man is barefoot. McCoy stands watching Spock for a moment and Spock finally reaches out and takes McCoy around the waist, pulling the slightly smaller man to sit in his lap. The fact that McCoy allows this without comment is also slightly worrying.

“Leonard?”

Spock presses his lips against the side of McCoy’s head. He can feel the tiredness, worry, anger, and underneath it, lingering shock and fear, coming off the other man. For a moment Spock shuts his eyes; he wants to say or do something to help, he wants to make this right, but that is impossible. If they were bonded Spock would be able to reach across their link, soothe the other man, let him know how much Spock worried, how much he loved. He could let him feel how much that moment when Sybok had taken control of McCoy had hurt Spock. If they had been bonded he might have been able to stop it from happening at all. They are not bonded, though.

Spock brushes one hand up the curve of McCoy’s body, gently stroking his back, cupping his neck. McCoy is too thin, smaller than Spock has ever known him, curled up on Spock’s lap. Age has changed both of them and Spock accepts this. He’d be happier, though, if like Jim and himself, McCoy put on a little weight as he aged instead of continuing to lose it.

“Tell me what is wrong.”Spock keeps his voice quiet.

Against him McCoy sighs, “I feel old, Spock.”

Spock traces one hand back down McCoy’s body, feeling its relative fragility against his own. He traces one hand down McCoy’s arms, brushes two fingers against the back of his hand, and McCoy turns his hand to brush Spock’s fingers with his own.

“You did all that you could do, Leonard,” Spock tells him softly, gently taking the other man’s chin in his hand and kissing him on the lips. “You need time to rest.”

“Yeah.” McCoy presses his face against the curve of Spock’s throat, kisses the hollow there. “I guess, although I had all the time on the ship on the trip back here.”

“Some things require more time than others,” Spock points out. McCoy snorts at that and Spock doesn’t need to see the other man to know he’s rolling his eyes. “As a doctor you know this to be true,” Spock counters, keeping his voice gentle in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the argument he knows they’re headed for.McCoy doesn’t answer, only presses himself more firmly against Spock’s chest. His hand wanders up and down Spock’s body through his meditation robe, stroking across his shoulders and chest. Spock lets his eyes drift closed momentarily. His relationship with the other man, and their lack of mental bond, has made him much more aware of ways of showing physical affection and comfort. He wraps his fingers around McCoy’s hand and draws it up, kissing across the older man’s knuckles. McCoy sighs softly and Spock bites gently at the tip of one of his fingers.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

McCoy looks up at him a faint smile curving his lips. “No, not yet.”

“Then come,” Spock nudges McCoy off his lap and then stands, taking him by the hand and leading him into the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to stand there and watch me eat it.” McCoy’s arms are crossed over his chest as he watches Spock reheat the leftover dinner.

“If it is necessary.”

McCoy rolls his eyes, “No, it’s not necessary, Spock.” He takes the bowl away from Spock and sits down. After watching McCoy take a couple bites, Spock turns and leaves him to finish while he goes through to their bedroom.

He paces for a few minutes and then realizes what he is doing and sits down on the bed. He’s troubled by the events of the past weeks, just as much as McCoy is, he realizes - troubled by McCoy’s reaction, and troubled by the now obvious disadvantage that having a mate he is not bonded to presents. For the first time in many years he thinks of pon farr and sighs. Many things - Gol, his death - have kept this from being a problem between them in the past, but he knows he cannot ignore it forever; one day it will take him again and he cannot risk McCoy, not without a mental bond to protect him. Spock folds his hands in his lap. He needs to mediate on this, but he also estimates that McCoy will be finished eating soon and he needs to be there when McCoy comes into the bedroom. If he is not there, Spock knows the chances are high that McCoy, in his own words, will have time to ruminate and become maudlin. There is a small noise and Spock looks up to see McCoy leaning against the doorframe watching him.

“Brooding Spock.”

Spock allows himself to raise one eyebrow - after all these years more because it amuses McCoy than anything else. “I do not brood.”

“Like hell you don’t.”McCoy pushes himself away from the doorframe and comes cross the room to stand in front of Spock and Spock reaches out for the other man, allowing his hands to close around his waist, pulling him close. Still so thin, he thinks, reaching forward to kiss McCoy deeply and tug him onto the bed. He runs his hands up the other man’s chest, enjoying the sensation of the soft shirt under his hands, McCoy’s body under the shirt; he can feel little tendrils of emotion coming off the man. He unbuttons the shirt and pulls it off, running his hands across McCoy’s bare shoulders and chest, hair, skin, muscles and bones. He leans forward and kisses one shoulder, and McCoy’s hands slide down his own body, down his chest, to settle at his waist.

“Have I told you lately how much I love the fact that you’re finally gaining weight?”

Spock raises his eyebrows looking up at the other man as McCoy lies back on the bed and smiles at him. “You were always so damn tall and skinny.”

“You never seemed to have any complaints,” Spock points out, standing as he strips out of his robes.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always been beautiful.” McCoy’s hands pull Spock back down onto the bed, until he’s leaning over the other man and McCoy’s hands trace his face, stroke his ears, then drift down to his shoulder. “Too beautiful for your own good sometimes, with all the people who’ve thrown themselves at you over the years.”

McCoy kisses Spock’s neck, under his chin, across one shoulder. “I did worry about you eating enough though, and that could be damn distracting when what I should have been thinking about was how to get you into bed.” Spock’s hand rises to trace across the lines that appear at the corners of McCoy’s eyes as the other man grins up at him.

McCoy’s hands drift down Spock’s chest to touch his stomach, and McCoy’s smile becomes gentle. Spock has never really understood the shame surrounding aging for most humans, but he appreciates the intimacy of McCoy’s touch, especially as McCoy’s hand drifts lower to curve around one of Spock’s thighs.

“While you, Leonard, need to be more conscious of your loss of weight,” Spock tells him and kisses along McCoy’s throat, sucking lightly as McCoy cups Spock’s balls briefly before pulling away from him and scooting up on the bed to unbutton his own pants and kick them off.He’s half sitting, propped against the headboard, and he holds out his hands to Spock who goes to him and kisses him lightly. He pulls away though, and slides down McCoy’s body, grasping his thighs and spreading his legs enough to give Spock room to lie comfortable, before Spock licks up McCoy’s erection. Spock licks around the head of McCoy cock, and McCoy’s hand gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Gorgeous.” Lost as he is in his task, it takes Spock a few seconds to figure out that McCoy is talking to him instead of babbling at him. “Sweetheart.”

Spock pulls away from McCoy, looking up at him, and McCoy’s hand cups his face. “Come here.” He tugs on Spock’s shoulder again. “I want to see your eyes.”

Spock obediently moves up McCoy’s body until they are face to face and McCoy leans forward and kisses him deeply, his hand tangling in Spock’s hair.

“I love you,” McCoy kisses across Spock’s cheeks, kisses him on the nose, “so very much.”McCoy’s hand strokes down Spock’s chest, carting through dark hair; moves across the slight swell of belly and then down; grasps Spock’s erection and lines it up with his own. Spock holds himself up on his elbows so as not to put his full weight on the other man as McCoy begins to stroke them both together.

“God, so good.” McCoy’s voice is rough and Spock’s hands are shaking on either side of the other man’s head; he fists into the blankets and drops his head to kiss along the side McCoy’s face and neck, feels McCoy gasp against the side of Spock’s own face. “Look at me please, darlin’.”

Spock pushes himself back up, struggles not to thrust into McCoy’s hand and fails.He stares at McCoy, watches the play of emotions behind the other man’s eyes, watches them darken to a blue that is almost black. Then McCoy gasps, arching back, eyes closing; Spock feels the other man come across both of their thighs, and can’t stop from crashing down on top of the slighter man as his own climax hits him. For a long moment he is aware of nothing except McCoy’s warm skin against his cheek and his own ragged breathing.

“We need to talk.” McCoy’s hand is on his shoulder and Spock rolls off the other man to lie next to him on the bed. “We need to talk about our mental bond.”

“That should not be overly time consuming,” Spock points out “considering we do not have one.”

“Yeah,” McCoy’s hand is on his chest, rubbing circles against the skin, carting through the dark hair, “maybe . . . maybe it’s time . . . if I were Vulcan . . . ”

Spock catches McCoy’s hand in his own, “believe me Leonard, I have never wished that you were.”

“It’s not even that it’s me, my fear, my relationship. I don’t like that things that happened to me so long ago are still stopping this.”

McCoy is completely serious, watching him intently and Spock thinks of all of the things he could say to this, how much he is moved by this gesture.

Instead he rolls over to face McCoy and squeezes his hand lightly, “then we will talk.”

He is rewarded with a smile and McCoy leans forward and kisses him on the cheek.

 

 


End file.
